The Magic of Ice and Fire
by TheFlowerOfTheCourt
Summary: I wanted to see if there was any interest in this. If there is, it will be my next project. Starts in Harry's fourth year. He has had enough and decides to steal a dragon's egg and escape from his miserable life during the first task after Hogwarts once again turns on him when his name comes out of the Goblet of Fire. However, he hadn't counted on someone taking his wish literally.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello all! This is another story idea that has plagued my mind to be written. I must admit that this has a strong chance of being written if the response is there for it. It is a Harry Potter/Game of Thrones(A Song of Ice and Fire) Crossover fic. The pairing will be Harry/Daenerys pairing. I will likely write the next few chapters of this anyhow and post them here just so you guys get a better feel of where I want to take this story.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, or A Song of Ice and Fire.**

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><p>Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing "We'll have a box of tissues ready, Potter" as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn't just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight.<p>

Time was behaving in a more peculiar fashion than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so that one moment he seemed to be sitting down in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch.. . and then (where had the morning gone? the last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to him in the Great Hall.

Lots of people were watching.

"Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now...You have to get ready for your first task."

"Okay," said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine!"

"Yeah," said Harry in a voice that was most unlike his own.

He heft the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem herself either; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head...We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand...The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you...Are you all right?"

"Yes," Harry heard himself say, mentally trying to figure out exactly what everyone would think after today. Likely, they would be mostly happy, he thought. "Yes, I'm fine."

She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.

"You're to go in here with the other champions," said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there...he'll be telling you the - the procedure...Good luck."

"Thanks," said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. He doubted she truly meant much by it, more so doing the platitudes that she felt were her duty. It wasn't as if anyone had actually cared much for his well being in the past. She left him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside.

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a how wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry didn't bother to return, feeling the muscles in his face working rather hard to keep from scowling at everyone.

"Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again.

"Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" - he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them - "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see.

And I have to tell you something else too.. . ah, yes... your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths; that was certainly how Harry felt. But they, at least, had volunteered for this. It didn't matter...it wasn't as if Harry actually planned to defeat the dragon. No, he had other plans for the day.

And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking...Harry felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a different species. Perhaps they were. None of them had had to endure what he had over the course of his life. Treated as a worthless freak and a slave growing up, praised when it was convenient and they wanted something from him, and vilified when he had nothing to offer. It seemed like about a second later to Harry - Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck And Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs. Harry had pretty well known all along it would be the Horntail he would face. After all, life wasn't complete if he wasn't getting the short end of the stick.

Not all was lost, however. While he would have a slightly harder time with this dragon, it's egg would be worth many times more than the other breeds.

"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see?

Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now... Harry... could I have a quick word? Outside?"

"Er...yes," said Harry blankly, and he got up and went out of the tent with Bagman, who walked him a short distance away, into the trees, and then turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face.

"Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?"

"What?" said Harry. "I - no, nothing."

"Got a plan?" said Bagman, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean," Bagman continued, lowering his voice still further, "you're the underdog here, Harry...Anything I can do to help..."

"No," said Harry so quickly he knew he had sounded rude, "no - I - I know what I'm going to do, thanks."

Harry did know what he was doing...he was leaving the fare weather friends behind today. No longer would he be treated as if a mushroom...kept in the dark and fed only shit, when it came to matters of his life. The stares, whispers, badges proclaiming 'Potter Stinks', everything...He was tired of it all. Even his best friend, Ron, had betrayed him.

"Nobody would know, Harry," said Bagman, winking at him.

"No, I'm fine," said Harry. "I've got a plan worked out, I -"

A whistle had blown somewhere.

"Good lord, I've got to run!" said Bagman in alarm, and he hurried off.

Harry walked back to the tent and saw Cedric emerging from it, greener than ever. Harry didn't bother to wish him luck as he walked past, it wasn't as if anyone really cared for his words of encouragement.

Harry went back inside to Fleur and Krum. Seconds hater, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Cedric had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model.

It was worse than Harry could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed. . . yelled.. . gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Krum was still staring at the ground.

Harry decided to ignore the sounds from the outside world and think back on his last few days of preparations.

Ron had been the final step. It was then, when Ron turned his back on him, that he knew he really didn't belong to this world, magical or Muggle really. Just as they had in second year, the entire school had turned on him the moment his name had came from the goblet. Well, all except for Hermione. He would miss his one true friend, but one friend does not overturn all of crap he had to put up with.

So Harry decided he was done with it. Done with the Muggles, done with the wizarding world, and done with threats to his life that loomed around every corner. Harry had packed his trunk days ago with all of his belongings, even taking care to 'borrow' as many books on magic that he could from the library. He packed up a few weeks worth of food, and he was leaving the wizarding world behind, but not his magic.

He had spent weeks gathering the books from the library that he felt would give him the knowledge he would need to know in the future. He skipped over the useless subjects, such as Herbology, Divination, and History. He instead concentrated on magic for fighting and everyday magic that he would use.

He would have liked to emptied his bank vault, but he no longer even had his key, so he had to improvise. Which was where the first task came into play.

Harry knew from first year with Norbert just how valuable dragon eggs were supposed to be. That was why Harry had truthfully hoped to be paired against the Hungarian Horntail. They were one of the most ferocious breeds and their eggs were rare and extremely valuable. He would find a way to sell the egg and earn enough money to live a small, but comfortable life. He also had packed the same books on Dragons that Hagrid had used years before just in case his plans were slowed and the dragon hatched before he could sell it.

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished - it would be Harry's turn any moment.

He stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be made of marshmallow. He waited. While his plan seemed good in his head, he still knew that out flying a dragon, especially the Horntail, would be no easy task.

And then he heard the whistle blow. He walked out through the entrance of the tent, the panic rising into a crescendo inside him. And now he was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.

He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. It was time to do what he had to do. . . to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance.

He raised his wand.

"Accio Firebolt!" he shouted.

Harry waited, every fiber of him hoping, praying...If it hadn't worked...if it wasn't coming...He seemed to be looking at everything around him through some sort of shimmering, transparent barrier, like a heat haze, which made the enclosure and the hundreds of faces around him swim strangely.

And then he heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise...Bagman was shouting something, but Harry's ears were not working properly anymore... listening wasn't important...

He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. And a second later, something miraculous happened...

As he soared upward, as the wind rushed through his hair, as the crowd's faces became mere flesh-colored pinpricks below, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog, he realized that he had heft not only the ground behind, but also his fear..He was back where he belonged...

This was just another Quidditch match, that was all...just another Quidditch match, and that Horntail was just another ugly opposing team.

He looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the gold one, gleaming against its cement-colored fellows, residing safely between the dragon's front legs. "Okay," Harry told himself, "diversionary tactics...let's go..."

He dived. The Horntail's head followed him; he knew what it was going to do and pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away...but Harry didn't care...that was no more than dodging a Bludger.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck - if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy - but better not push it too long, or it would be breathing fire again - Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky - he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes - He could feel it stinging, he could hear screaming and groans from the crowd, but the cut didn't seem to be deep...Now he zoomed around the back of the Horntail, and a possibility occurred to him...

The Horntail didn't seem to want to take off, she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping those fearsome yellow eyes on Harry, she was afraid to move too far from them...but he had to persuade her to do it, or he'd never get near them...The trick was to do it carefully, gradually...

He began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared...

He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, hike a snake before its charmer. . .

Harry rose a few more feet, and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now...She shot fire into the air, which he dodged...Her jaws opened wide...

"Come on," Harry hissed, swerving tantalizingly above her, "come on, come and get me...up you get now!"

And then she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small airplane - and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs - he had taken his hands off his Firebolt, quickly using the few precious seconds he had to make his selection.

There is the very middle of her clutch, right next to the golden egg, was the one he wanted. Pure black in color, covered with a mess of tiny spikes. The egg was quite a bit larger than the others in the nest, and Harry knew it would be the most valuable by far. It was quite a bit bigger than the egg he had seen of Norbert.

Harry's hands, honed by hours of snagging the snitch, reached out and scooped up the large black egg from the others and immediately began to take off. His first plan was to take the egg to Gringott's and see how much the goblins would be willing to pay for his egg, but one very pissed of mother dragon had other plans.

With a massive roar, filled with anger and worry over her egg, she pulled hard on the chain holding her to the ground and sped off towards Harry the moment it snapped. Harry only had a seconds notice that something had gone wrong before he had to speed off and dodge a blast of fire from the angry Horntail.

He leaned hard on his broom, the stolen egg still clasped under his left arm, with the dragon hot on his tail. He sped off over the forbidden forest, keeping as low to the forest canopy as he dared, knowing that the dragon would have the agility to fly as low.

For miles and miles he flew as fast as the Firebolt would allow him, but the dragon was slowly catching him. The tail of his broom was already smoking and slightly charred from one too many close calls. By now, he could no longer see the castle in the distance, and he could not see an end in sight to the massive forest.

The dragon was gnashing it's teeth mere feet behind Harry now, and he was getting truly desperate to escape a fiery death. His broom was slowly losing altitude until his foot clipped a tree branch and threw off his balance, ripping him from his broom. He was bounced and smashed against branch after branch as he fell towards the ground.

The dragon, in its rage and singular focus on Harry and her egg, followed suit and charged down through the canopy after them. Unfortunately, for the dragon at least, trees weren't the only thing that inhabited this particular portion of the forest.

Just as the Horntail smashed it's way through the canopy, it finally figured that fact out. From nowhere a large obelisk found it's mark into the chest of great beast, lodging itself deep in it's chest. Large pools of blood poured from the chest of the great beast, falling on top of Harry who had landed just below the now dying beast. The wide-eyed dragon let loose a final roar and fell silent.

Harry could feel stinging as the dragon's blood covered his body, burning where it seeped into his many cuts and scrapes he had earned on his fall. He was too sore and tired from his fall to take notice of the fact he was laying, not on the dirty forest floor, but a large stone floor that was cornered by four great obelisks, one of which had the carcass of the Horntail still dripping blood from atop it.

Harry wiped the blood from his glasses and eyes as best he could and took a look around, just as Hedwig joined him from somewhere above. Around him was nothing but dense and silent forest. There were no animals even making a sound nearby, and the only thing Harry could hear over his breathing was the steady drip of blood still leaking from the dragon.

The alter he had fell into was semi-large, it was roughly the size of McGonagall's chess board. There were what appeared to be an intricate carving of symbols and shapes into the floor. He might have stopped to ponder what they meant...if it hadn't been for the fact they had started to glow.

The blood from the dragon had covered pretty much the entire surface of the alter and the spots the blood had touched had lit up, as if activating something. Immediately dread began to build in the back of Harry's mind.

Harry decided to quickly try to make his exit while he still could. When he reached the edge of the alter, he let out a huge breath as he was knocked backwards. Slowly he stood up, and put his hand towards where the edge should have been, meeting nothing, yet unable to pass.

Beyond the alter, it seemed as if time had stood still. There wasn't even so much as a rustle among the leaves in any of the trees.

Suddenly, Harry could hear a slight rustling behind him. It was soft and delicate sounding as if made by the finest of silks blowing ever so gently in the wind. The hair on the back of his neck started to stand up as an imminent feeling of doom started to wash over him.

Just before he could even decide to turn around and investigate, a bluish tendril of magic had slowly wormed its way out of the, now visible, barrier that had kept him trapped inside. It seemed to bob up and down as if looking at first his chest, and then his head. It did this for a few moments before suddenly, with speed faster than any golden snitch Harry had ever seen, it lunged into his forehead, right where his scar was located.

Pain...for what seemed to be the millionth time in his life. He had known several types and he had to admit, this one was among the worst. It felt as if a piece of his very soul was being ripped away from him. His forehead felt as if it were on fire and ready to burst open. However, just as it was starting, it had ended.

The tendril of magic had pulled back from his head. Taking with it a mass of black that seemed to be screaming, as if in defiance, and held it there. Harry dropped to his knees utterly exhausted. It was only when something spoke from behind him, that he remembered there had been something there.

"It has been quite some time since I was last called here." the voice said. It was a soft, melodious voice; yet also hard and firm. It was but a whisper, but it was easy to hear. It sounded as if it were made up of the whispers of an infinite number of people, all whispering the same thing at once. It also made every single hair on Harry's body stand on end.

Slowly, and full of fear, Harry turned around.

The being behind him was unidentifiable, yet he could tell instantly who it was. The figure was under a pitch black cloak that waved lazily in an invisible wind. Only the hands and face were showing. Harry could make out that the body was skeletal, yet at the same time, the body flashed with an infinite number of looks. It was as if he was a metamorphmagus, only ever inch of his body was turning into a different looking human than the inch beside it, like an infinite number of people melded into one, but never at the same time.

"What is this place?" Harry asked. "Are you the Grim Reaper? Am I dead?"

"This is a place that lost souls come to rest." the hooded figure stated simply. "From time to time, someone living happens upon these grounds intent upon making a sacrifice for my favor. As for who I am, I have been called many names, including the Reaper, or simply Death. I am none of these things, yet all of them as well. Your last question depends on you however."

"How can you be something, yet not be it at the same time?" Harry asked curiously. "And how does it depend on me?"

"I can never die, yet I am not alive. So I am both immortal, and yet not." Death started. "I am both Heaven and Hell, a demon and an angel, purgatory and the afterlife. I am simply what one becomes upon their death. I am made up of the infinite lost souls that have passed from the land of the living to the dead."

"You sound like Dumbledore." Harry muttered, not making much sense of what was being said.

"One day soon, I shall become him as well." Death chuckled. "When one dies, they are sent to me. I absorb their soul and grant them a version of the afterlife that I feel they have earned in life. Everything they have seen or knew in life, I know in death."

"So you are like god?" Harry asked curiously. "And how did you come to exist at all?"

"If there was to be a god, by human standards I would be him." Death sighed. "There is no other being simply looking down, smiling his blessings upon the people of the world. There is only the dead, waiting to claim the next lost soul who has finished his time upon earth.

I was formed much the same way the very earth upon which you stand was created. Each soul started out as an asteroid of sorts, bouncing around endlessly in an vast nothingness. Occasionally they would collide, combining to make an entity just a bit larger. Over time enough have collided to start attracting others to them, eventually becoming the planets you know today."

"So..." Harry began. "There are countless planets out there. Are there more of you?"

"There are." Death explained. "However, the attraction to become one becomes so strong, much live gravity, and the pull is too much to ignore any longer. Most have joined me to become what you see before you...the others escaped through this very portal to live on earth as what you would call a Dementor. They too have their own collection of souls...forever trapped on this plane until their carrier returns home to join the others."

"Wow." Harry whispered, truly in awe of the fact he now probably knew more about death than any other living person. Until his mind remembered just why he knew these things. "You said it depended on me, yet I do not know why you have come or why you were even summoned?"

Death glided over towards the barrier, where the small black mass was still wailing and trying to make a bid for freedom.

"You have made a soul offering." Death said as if that explained everything. "This one goes by the name of Tom Riddle. It is only a small part, and there are of course others that have been hiding from my grasp for many years now. For this you have earned my favor, five times over in fact."

"Five?" Harry asked. "I only brought the one soul to you? And how did he split it into different pieces and hide them from you?"

"Yes, five." Death smiled. "When a piece of destroyed, it is no longer connected to the whole. It simply dies and is sent to me, as another piece has done so already. However, when I hold the piece whole and alive, it is still connected to the others...even if they have been separated and torn beyond repair. There are four others, not counting the man himself, that I can obtain while I visit this world. Although, I do believe he intends to create another before the earth's next cycle around the sun."

"So what five favors do I get?" Harry asked warily. "And this isn't some sort of trick is it?" Harry had had enough lies to last him a lifetime as it was.

"Only one shall be a large favor, I'm afraid." Death smiled to him. "After all, you did only bring me the one piece. It is only because I can now track the other four, that you shall receive four other smaller favors to assist you along with the first.

It is no trick...but it can become a curse if one allows it. Your ancestor Ignotus Peverell was a cautious one as well, and he lived well by the cloak I had gifted him...which currently lies in your pocket. His brothers both joined me shortly after our departure from here. Antioch was gifted with a wand more powerful than any other of its kind. But he was a boastful man. He bragged of his invincibility and death caught up to him in his sleep, in the form of a thief.

Cadmus, the middle brother, lasted a few years longer than his brother, yet he soon joined me as well. He was in love, and tried to reclaim that which had already left this world with a stone to resurrect the dead. But the dead will always be so. When he could not achieve the happiness he sought, he chose to find it in death so as to be with his love once more.

Ignotus, the youngest, kept almost silent about his gift, using it to hide from those who would make him share the same fate as his brothers, including myself. It was many moons later, that he too joined me...albeit willingly and with a smile. It has been over a millennium since I met with the three Peverell brothers, and here you are, their last ancestor. You happen to be the first I have done so since."

"I wish Binn's had been this exciting." Harry mumbled to himself before turning to Death once more. "So...do I get to just pick any favor, or...?"

"Yes...and no." Death began with a smile. "There is little in the world that escapes my notice. There are many, whose reward in death is to oversee the living. Your own mother and father included. I have seen through their eyes your very life, as even know they watch over you, and I know how it is you have came to be so far from civilization in the first place.

Your major reward will be that very reason fulfilled. I shall give you the escape you so desire from this life. This world is not the only one. There are others, worlds where you are not bound by fate. Worlds where you are free to choose your own path. It is to one of these worlds that I shall send you. Of course, you do have the choice to refuse my favor. The soul you have brought just becomes a gift to me."

"Do I have time to think this over?" Harry asked nervously. "And what four favors will help with the first?"

"You have as long as you like," Death grinned. "But take too long and you may yet starve. I will however, tell you of your other favors before you must decide.

First, I will allow you to take the belongings you have with you. Your trunk, your wand, your stolen egg, and even your lovely owl. Second, the world you shall journey too does not know the tongue of man here, any language you know in this world will be transformed into a similar counterpart in the next. Third, the dragon's blood that seeps into your skin and mixes with your blood as we speak, I will allow you too keep it with all of the benefits and none of the risks that go along with it.

There are those, not as many as in times gone by, that also have the blood of dragons in their veins in your new world, so fear not child. And lastly, with a new world comes a new history. When you awake in your new world you shall find a book detailing it's history so that you may grow and become accustomed with it's history and it's...practices."

"What benefits is there to having dragon's blood?" Harry asked. "What is different with the practices of this world?"

"The very magic of this world is tied to dragons." Death answered simply. "While magic does still exist there, it is very weak as the Dragon's blood is only alive in the veins of a small number. This is also why you shall need your stolen egg child. When it hatches, magic will once again be reborn upon the world. So long as Dragon's live in The Known World, so will magic. As the father of dragons, you will also be impervious to fire as those that have come before you have been as well. So remember to cherish your gifts and protect them.

The practices are much older than those of this world. Some ways of life that have long since been antiquated and forbidden here are still alive in your new world. There is suffering and turmoil happening in all world child, however, there is nothing to stop you from changing them." Death grinned to Harry with the last line before continuing. "Do you have your decision child?"

Harry turned to his faithful companion. The one who he knew would never turn on him or lead him wrong. "What do you think Hedwig? Do you think we should do it girl?" he asked the owl on his shoulder.

Hedwig looked from him to Death and narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to detect any trickery. After a few second she turned back to Harry and bobbed her head up and down and hooted her acceptance of the offer.

"I will do it." Harry said filled with both dread and excitement at the prospect of the unknown. "Can you...tell my parents to watch over Hermione? She was my only friend in the end and I will miss her."

Death nodded his head. "I shall, and when your friend has joined me one day she will know the truth." Death turned back towards where he had entered the alter. He waved his skeletal hand towards the nothingness that was there and slowly something began to appear.

Suddenly, there was a raised stone dais in the center of the alter, on which stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked and crumbling that Harry was amazed the thing was still standing. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.

There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil, and Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it.

"Can you feel it's call?" Death asked curiously. "Not everyone can. Your ministry had stolen my veil many moons ago, but all things belong to Death and unto him will they eventually return. This time you should answer it's call, child. Your new life awaits you on the other side."

Harry slowly walked up the the edge of the veil and slowly ran his fingertips over the soft velvety surface. "Any advice for me?" Harry asked ruefully to the cloaked figure behind him.

"War happens in every world child, even this one." Death began as Harry's fingers seemed to be stuck in the veil, pulling him in deeper. Oddly enough, Harry held no fear about it. It had felt right to him. "Everyone must choose a side, and remember, when you are called upon to play the Game of Thrones, you are free to choose the side of your own making."

Those were the last words Harry heard from Death as he was sucked into the veil completely and devoured by the darkness. His last thoughts before he blacked out were, "What the blood hell is the Game of Thrones?"

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><p><strong>Published: 914/2014**

**Edited: 9/17/2014  
><strong>


	2. New Poll!

I have received so many great ideas from you guys, but unfortunately they have been almost split down the middle as to which way Harry should enter the Game of Thrones world. I have opened a poll for you guys to vote on, it will stay open until I have progressed far enough with A Soul Within that I can safely find time to get started on this new story. Let the voting begin!


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